


Indivisible

by AxeMeAboutAxinomancy



Series: For Mad Science, John [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clones, Humor, M/M, Mad Science, Multiple Selves, Podfic Available, They're not clones they're simultaneous iterations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy/pseuds/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All right," said John. "Show me. If it's so simple, <i>show </i>me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indivisible

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[翻译] 浑然一体](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240171) by [fisafisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fisafisa/pseuds/fisafisa)



"All right," said John. "Show me. If it's so simple, _show_ me."

Sherlock favoured him with a long, lean smile. Sherlock had lately started smiling a lot more, and he was trying out new kinds.

"Really, John? Because if all you'll do with it is make yourself more able to do boring things, I'd rather not."

"Boring things??"

"Work. Cleaning. _Boring_ things. And the truly awful part is that the other yous would surely go along with it. Doing work in _shifts_. Lamentable."

"But for sex it's okay." John felt the word _sex_ enter the room and struggled not to blush, even though he was the one who had invited it in.

"Well obviously! It would be more fun. More hands, more parts, dear God John, more _mouths_ to work with. One mouth is not enough with which to devour you, is what I'm saying."

"You are terrifying," said John, but he was smiling, now, and so it was a compliment.

He knew that the term _mad science_ was a slight misnomer. It was like _irrational number_. It didn't mean exactly what it sounded like. Mad science was theoretical science that could not be expressed except practically. Come to think of it, that did sound mad. But it tended to be unpredictably exciting.

And John _liked_ unpredictable excitement.

It didn't require that the scientist be mad, but it obviously didn't hurt.

"Can I touch you while you do it?"

"You have before."

"Oh. Right."

Sherlock began disrobing. John gulped and reflexively looked around for previously unnoticed onlookers. None appeared. They were in their own sitting room, and the door was locked, they'd quickly learned to do _that_ , so there was no reason for John to feel self conscious about daytime nudity in the sitting room.

He did, though.

"Do _you_ have to be naked...?" He knew any other Sherlocks that appeared would be. Clothes didn't divide.

"No," said Sherlock. "I just like the look on your face." Presumably it would also save time later. "Also," he went on, shimmying out of his pants in an extremely distracting way, "I don't like the way you talk to the clothed one of me as the 'real' one. You'll never get the trick of how to do it if you think of it that way."

"But why isn't the original you the real you?" He just couldn't wrap his mind around this, no matter how he tried.

"I've told you! They're all real! We're all real. _I'm_ \- all real. Honestly, John. You're forcing me to torment the English language."

"I'm not forcing you to do anything," said John, his eyes hot on pale skin and long long legs. "You love the sound of your own voice."

" _You_ love it," Sherlock shot back. "Now _watch_."

There was a sort of shiver, and a second Sherlock stepped apart, smiling at him in exactly the same way as the first one. It was the See How Obvious, John? smile.

"Well, but that was too fast!" John complained, his eyes twice as distracted by twice the number of bare legs.

Sherlock(s) pouted. They looked at one another, there was another sort of shiver, only slower, and two more stepped apart. The result was the same. John still had no idea whatsoever how Sherlock was doing that. "I still can't see anything." Apart from the _everything_ of four naked identical iterations of his gorgeous lover. That, he could see wonderfully well.

One of the first pair of Sherlocks, possibly the original one, came up to John and started briskly tugging the hem of his jumper up, yanking John's arms into the air.

Once he emerged, he had no idea which of the gloriously nude Sherlocks surrounding him was the one he thought of as 'his'.

He was most assuredly the one all four thought of as 'theirs', and they stripped him with scientific efficiency. _Mad_ scientific efficiency. He'd put on perfectly ordinary pants this morning, so where the red ones they now took off him came from, he had _no_ idea. It was quite a feat. He hadn't worn red pants since he was a teenager. - Probably a probability thing.

Sherlock's comment about _mouths_ now recurred to John's mind. They wouldn't even let him lie down on the sofa, or coax them down the hall to the bed. When he couldn't keep standing anymore, they supported him.

Why didn't they move in unison? Why didn't they speak in unison? They were each of them distinct, each one of them could be the real one. According to Sherlock each one of them was the real one. _That_ was obviously impossible. John had asked this unison question once before, and the Sherlocks had got so worked up about it that he was not about to try again. "WE ARE NOT A HIVE MIND," "HONESTLY JOHN," that sort of thing.

They certainly didn't lick or nibble or bite in unison. John felt like he was in the midst of some ever-drifting fractal pattern, the pivot point in a kaleidoscope. Anytime he reached out he could touch curly dark hair, silky pale skin. It was glorious. Also it was very warm.

He wished he had more hands with which to touch them. He shivered.

"Oh! You almost," said one, pressing his lips to John's belly.

"Yes, nearly," another one agreed.

"Shut up and stop distracting him."

No, they were not in unison. But they were still united in purpose, moving together like a school of fish. A school of fish that used their tongues to paint stripes all over his body. If they were all different, why wouldn't one or more of them get bored of this and wander off to experiment on things or bully Lestrade? Why would they cooperate at all?

Why couldn't he _understand_ this? Sherlock seemed to genuinely believe John could understand it - or at least, he had never said he couldn't. And Sherlock didn't tend to hold back from remarks of that sort.

They seemed to decide he wasn't going to manage it right away and let him lead them to Sherlock's bedroom. When he fumbled the light on, there were Sherlock shadows all over the room.

"Do you think you could… you know… undivide? A bit? Four is too many." He was about to say that even two might be too many, but all of them scowled, not quite in sync.

"We could **show** you how many is too many," said one of them darkly, and John spread his hands, "Okay, okay!"

They didn't let him lie down exactly. He seemed to rotate in their collective grasp as though in zero gravity. A puzzle they were solving. No penetrative efforts had been made in the sitting room, but here there was lube. They were going to run out of it much sooner at this rate.

They were teasing him, provoking him. Weren't they? What exactly was it they were trying to get him to do? He almost did it before - _how?_ He'd only wanted - he'd only wished - for more hands to touch Sherlock with. It couldn't just be that.

They were tireless, showed no signs of boredom or impatience with his persistent stupidity. But he was very much afraid he would come long before it could ever happen. Sherlock, multiple, was teasing him, but the fourfold tease was very potent and they had John strung tight enough between them to snap. He closed his eyes, bit at his lip. If only - If there were only _more_ of John for them to tease, he might endure it a little bit longer - he _shivered_ -

" _Yes_ ," the Sherlocks breathed, moaned, laughed, sighed.

John rolled to the side, and two of the Sherlocks caught him. _But_ he was still with the other two. _But_ he was -

John was _two_. He looked at himself, and his self looked back. Both of him were naked, and rumpled, and wearing an expression of suspicious incredulity as well as an unrepentant erection, and both of him were real, and neither of him was a copy. This other John that had not been there before was still just as much John as the first John. The same as Sherlock had been trying to tell him. How did it work? No wonder Sherlock couldn't explain it. It had been an emotion. It had been the overwhelming desire to _be more_ for the sake of somebody else.

He remembered the fifty-two Sherlocks and was humbled to understand, finally, what it _meant_. How much Sherlock actually cared.

Meanwhile the Sherlocks looked as gleeful as though it were a serial killer Christmas.

The bed was simply not big enough for six. The duvet and pillows were scavenged from the upstairs bedroom and a nest was made on the floor. The mattress ended up there too, but not by design. Sherlock Holmes' room had never been so thoroughly fucked in. The two simultaneous iterations of John quite literally had their hands full. And the Sherlocks didn't mind snogging one another, especially since it made the Johns excited, but the Johns recoiled from one another the one time they were in danger of contact. It was just too weird. This time.

The Sherlocks thought it was terribly funny. Maybe it was, but John would hardly give himself a glance with so much Sherlock on offer.

They did run out of lube eventually. The trouble really started when all of the Sherlocks assumed one of the Johns ought to be the one to go out and get more. In his irritation John snapped back into _one_ so fast it really made his head spin.

Dizzying. Overwhelming. He remembered both perspectives. Fortunately however, he was not twice as sore.

When his head cleared, when he looked up again, there was one Sherlock there with him on the floor. Looking contrite. "We could both go."

John thought for a moment before understanding that _both_ meant _you and me._

"Yeah," he said. "Let's do that." He thought for a moment more, then put a hand on Sherlock's thigh.

"We'd better buy a _lot."_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Indivisible](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485667) by [AxeMeAboutAxinomancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy/pseuds/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy)




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